


bad ideas in bar bathrooms

by shineonloki



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bathroom Hook-up, Drunk Sex, Humor, M/M, Step-Sibling Incest, This is Basically a Joke, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 10:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17548337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shineonloki/pseuds/shineonloki
Summary: Thor drunk-texts a number written on a bathroom wall. It goes better than expected.





	bad ideas in bar bathrooms

It’s been a while since Thor could say he was drunk.

He’s a large tankard of a man who spent too many of his college nights getting wasted. The occasional beer or glass of whiskey does nothing but take the edge off a hard day. A tolerance that he’s not exactly proud of.

Tonight though, Thor _is_ drunk.

Hammered, as they say.

More than likely it’s due to his group of friends at the large high-top bar table, all sloppily taking shots and belting out off-key tunes with the jukebox.

They all deserve it though, Thor included. Recently graduated and the hope that they’ll find careers in their respective fields is still high on the horizon. A celebration is in order, and a celebration means shots, shots, and more shots.

Thor slides in a quarter and picks a song he knows Loki will hate. Something upbeat, pop, and straight from the Billboard Top 100s. From across the bar, his step-brother eyes him like he knows exactly what’s going on, and Thor just gives him a faux-innocent grin.

“Come on,” a voice says, and he’s being torn away from the jukebox and away from Loki’s dagger-like stare. Thor looks down to see Val on his arm, dragging him off to the corner of the bar and towards the restrooms. He stumbles on his feet, but for the most part keeps up.

Bar bathrooms aren’t particularly high on his list of places he likes to be— especially this one. It’s unisex, or well, it is now. The women’s bathroom hasn’t worked in years and at this point, there are too many rumors revolving around _why_ that no one would step foot in it anyway. The floors are perpetually dirty, the mirrors cracked, and every inch of the walls are covered in marker graffiti.

But, hey, they have the cheapest drinks in town.

“I don’t have to go,” Thor grumbles, but Val ignores him, fixing her smeared eyeliner in the mosaic mirror. He goes into the cleanest looking stall anyway, because pissing here is _still_ a better option than passing out and pissing in his pants.

When he toes the handle with his boot to flush— drunk or not, he is _not_ touching that— and swings the door open, Val is staring at a spot on the wall with her hands on her hips.

“Huh,” she says. “That’s new.”

She’s looking at a fresh scrawl of ink across the concrete cinder blocks, scribbled atop years of profanities and poorly drawn dicks.

“For a good time, call…” she reads, and Thor squints because the numbers are looking jumbled together. In his tequila-addled mind, he thinks they look familiar. Val nudges him with her elbow, nearly toppling him over. “You should call.”

“ _You_ should call,” he counters.

Good one, Thor. Got her.

“He would be much more interested in you.”

“He?”

Val purses her lips together and fishes his phone from his pocket. He grapples with it, tries to still it back. It’s a brand new fancy one— that he barely knows how to use— that he splurged on when his old one finally bit the dust. Loki had welcomed him to the twenty-first century, snapped a selfie, and set it as the background.

Which— Val is now judging him for.

“Careful with that, it’s new,” he says.

“No contacts yet?”

“What— no, why?”

She arches a brow but doesn’t offer a further explanation. Thor watches her punch in the number carefully with a new message. Her thumbs start moving, and finally, so does Thor’s brain. He once again reaches to snatch it from her grasp.

He’s _not_ texting a number on a bathroom wall. He’s _not_ that cliché.

A message is sent: _Hey_.

Okay, so he is this cliché.

Thor goes for his phone again, and this time Val lets him have it. He stares at the blue bubble.

Delivered, great, of course.

Then, to his horror, _read_.

“He’s texting back,” Thor tells her in a panic. Who thought it was a good idea to make messaging this interactive? Where is the mystery of not knowing if your text went through? This is anxiety-inducing.

Val leans over his shoulder to watch as three little dots taunt him.

“He’s typing a novel,” Thor laments.

“Probably about how much he wants to—”

Thor cuts Val off with a hand over her mouth and successfully muffles whatever is about to come out. In the midst of valiantly attempting to keep his hand firmly in place, Thor’s phone vibrates and they both freeze.

Thor’s heart is beating at a pace he didn’t know was possible. He isn’t sure why; it isn’t like he’s going to _actually_ get a good time out of this. It’s been a while since he’s been on the dating scene— but he’s nearly positive this isn’t how it goes.

His thumb hovers over the messaging app, red notification teasing him, and throws caution to the wind. Thor opens the message and—

 **Received 11:43 pm:** _Hey?_

“That’s it?”

Thor stares at the message, like it may morph into something else. Something, horny? Maybe.

“You have to initiate it,” Val tells him because apparently, she’s the expert of texting anonymous numbers on bathroom walls. “Just say something raunchy. At the very least, it will be funny.”

Right, the tequila swimming in his head tells him, it will be funny.

They exit the bathroom, and their table cheers like they just arrived back home from an expedition. It seems everyone is significantly more drunk, if possible. Save, maybe, Loki— who is looking unamused at his phone, until his eyes cut up to Thor.

He’s not that worried about whatever snide remark he has planned for him. There are bigger things to attend to. Like, what dumb thing he can say to this number to get a good laugh when he sobers back up.

Thor sits down, eyes glued to the phone.

He takes the shot Val pours him, eyes glued to the phone.

He agrees with whatever Banner is asking him to agree with, eyes glued to the phone.

Finally, he types out: _U any good at sucking dick?_

Perfectly eloquent, tactful. Hilarious. Val will get a kick out of it whenever he shows her. She said raunchy, right?

The table vibrates and Thor picks up his phone eagerly to check the reply. There’s nothing there.

The table then _shakes_ when, seated across from him, Loki slams his knee into the top. Thor looks up from his phone to see his step-brother staring a hole through him, eyes wider than dinner plates. His face looks about three shades paler than normal, and for a moment, Thor is worried that he’s about to hurl all over himself. Which is strange, he hadn’t seen him drink that much.

Loki reaches across the table and takes Thor’s shot from in front of him, downs it in a single go, never breaking eye contact. Thor’s face breaks into a messy grin, and Loki’s cheeks redden.

Good, Thor thinks, he needs to loosen up a bit.

He’s honestly surprised Loki showed up at all. Not that he was a stick-in-the-mud, Thor had grown up with him—he knew Loki had a terrible, mischievous streak. Loki just wasn’t one to tag along to social events, not since they were teenagers and Thor had to tote him along to every party.

They are brothers, if not by blood, by heart. And, Thor loves him, which is why he has the authority to say with confidence: Loki is an ass.

Loveable, though. In his own way.

Thor abandons thoughts of his brother to check his phone. The text is beginning to blur and double, and he closes one eye to inspect it. No reply but read. He’s not really sure what he was expecting there— or, for that matter, what he would do with a reply? It wasn’t like he was going to seriously meet up with anyone.

Or, so he _keeps_ telling himself.

Val nudges and attempts to drag him into whatever conversation is happening around them. He doesn’t hear it though; rather, his brain is having trouble stringing the words into coherent sentences. But, in all fairness, it’s hard to concentrate with someone staring a hole through your head.

He’s just about to ask Loki what his deal is when his phone vibrates against the sticky tabletop.

 **Received 12:16 am:** _Do you want to find out?_

Alcohol has already ensured he’s pink in the cheeks, but this makes him turn scarlet. He doesn’t want to find out, he doesn’t. Does he? It’s been a while since Jane and, Thor looks around the bar, no one here is a heinous beast.

He stares at the text.

“It’d make for a good story,” Val whisper-yells over the loud music. He fumbles to exit out of the text, but her words are already sinking in.

His stupid, horrible brain agrees with her.

Before he can even think of a response, another text comes through.

 **Received 12:18 am:** _Meet me in the women’s bathroom._

He shouldn’t— he _shouldn’t_.

What he should do is ask the smartest person he knows. Thor’s eyes flicker up to find Loki’s seat empty, only a drained shot glass flipped over in his wake. Next, he scans the bar and finds no one fitting the description of haughty-author-with-haunting-beauty.

The bathroom, Thor finally realizes.

Good thing he was going to the _other_ bathroom.

“I’ll be back,” he tells Val— and Banner, who is much more interested in whatever drunk tangent he is currently on. Val gives him a knowing little smile, lifting her beer bottle to her lips and cuts her gaze over to Loki’s empty seat.

“Yeah, tell him too.”

A roll of eyes, which he ignores, and he leaves before he can talk himself out of it. But, there’s already a tightening in his pants, and he’s pretty sure his body wouldn’t let him turn back now if he wanted too. His cock was promised a good time, and it was going to see to it. Moral high-ground, be damned.

He realizes, belatedly, that he has no idea what to expect. Val kept saying _he_ , but that really didn’t mean much. She doesn’t actually know. There could be anyone behind the door.

Thor has already decided he is willing, so if this mysterious entity is also willing— well…

A deep breath.

He opens the door and his first thought is: _clean._ Bizarrely clean compared to the rest of the bar. Not a stitch of graffiti in sight, no suspicious drain, no spider-webbed mirrors. Someone was holding out.

His second thought is—

“Loki?”

His step-brother is standing in the middle of the room, shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, a tangle of dark curls tied back at the nape of his neck. He looks flushed, and he’s picking at his hand like he does when his nerves are shot and he doesn’t want to admit it.

It takes a moment longer than strictly necessary for Thor’s brain to catch up.

Loki is standing there. Loki is in the abandoned bathroom that he’s supposed to meet a stranger in to hook-up.

“What are you doing here?” Thor asks, right as Loki says, “I can’t believe you came.”

It hits Thor then.

 _Oh_. This is a joke.

Loki’s handsome face twists in confusion.

(Thor expertly ignores the part of his brain that thinks Loki handsome.)

“What do you mean?” Loki fishes his phone from his pocket and holds it up.

If Thor squints, he can see a text conversation. If he steps closer, he can see it’s between the two of them. And, if he wasn’t in complete denial, he would see where he has asked Loki if he is any good at sucking dick.

Thor is mortified, but Loki doesn’t laugh. He looks just as distraught.

“You didn’t know you were texting me?” Loki asks, on the verge of screaming. He shoves Thor back, who is helpless but to stumble against the door.

The room is spinning, but he’s not sure if it’s from too much to drink or the fact _he’s propositioned his brother._

Something clicks.

“You _knew_ I was texting you?”

Loki stops in his tracks and his face drains of color. He’s close enough that Thor can hear the sharp intake of breath and see his shoulders tense. Thor feels marginally sober but no less horny.

In a blink, Thor replays hundreds of memories featuring him and Loki. Sitting on the couch, playing video games, Loki on the floor between his legs watching him. Loki crawling into bed with him, complaining of the cold. Loki saying that they should just go to prom together. Loki applying to the same college. Loki insisting that they room together when they are both accepted. Loki coming out tonight despite complaining of a headache earlier that day.

And, Loki watches in horror as Thor unravels what is probably his greatest secret.

Oh.

Luckily, Thor is leaned heavily against the doorway to prevent any attempted escapes. Loki’s panic-stricken face falls into something else, something flat and blank, until his lips curl into a devious smile. Thor knows that look, it’s dangerous. It means he’s up to something.

“Do you want to find out, or not?”

“What?”

He knows what.

“If I’m any good,” Loki says, batting his eyelashes. He’d call it innocent if it were anyone else.

Loki takes a careful step towards him, crowding him against the door. A hand comes to land on his chest, firm and grounding. All at once, Thor is surrounded by him. He can’t think, much less breath. Just stands there opening and closing his mouth like a dumb fish.

“Well?”

Thor can’t help but notice, once again, that Loki’s shirt is unbuttoned, pale skin peeking out. The rise and fall of his chest evident, no matter how hard he’s trying to act calm. Thor can see the panic hidden in those short breaths. And his hair, which was loose around his face back in the bar, being pulled back?

Yes, Loki is a man on a mission.

Coincidentally, so is Thor.

He doesn’t trust himself to speak, too afraid of whatever drunk truths might fall out. Loki’s ego is large enough without telling him he used to dream about this when they were teenagers.

And, Thor has always been a man of action, so he acts, grabs Loki by the lapels of his wrinkled shirt and hauls him forward.

Loki tastes like whatever on-tap beer he was drinking and fresh mint. For a moment, his lips stay frozen as Thor works him over, kissing and coaxing a response. Panic rears its ugly head, making Thor think that maybe Loki wasn’t serious at all—

A bite at his bottom lip, playful and teasing, and Loki is kissing back. He moves frantic hands to cup at Thor’s stubbled cheeks, holding him firmly still while he presses his weight against him and kisses back with contagious vigor. Moving against him like Thor might disappear.

Why had it taken so long to get to this point?

Maybe because their parents have been married since they were eight, but that’s a minor setback in the grand scheme of things.

Because Loki fits perfectly against him, and its worth a few awkward family gatherings.

His wax-poetic ramble comes to an abrupt stop when Loki’s hand slides from his chest to cup at his half-hard cock through rough denim. Kisses move from his mouth to his cheek, to beneath his jaw, before finally settling on his neck. There, Loki bites and licks, and Thor can do nothing but pant and tilt his hips forward into Loki’s kneading palm.

“Loki,” Thor groans out, letting his head fall to the side to offer Loki easier access to mouth hot and desperate at his ear. He can’t help the sound that escapes him when his lobe becomes lost between sharp teeth and clever lips. “Please,” he begs and doesn’t know for what.

Loki, however, does. He pulls away, ignores the whine Thor lets out and drops to his knees.

Thor can barely look at him, if he does for too long, this will be over. The sight of his step-brother dropped down between his legs, looking up with wide, determined eyes, as he tugs at the buttons of his pants is nearly too much.

Its an image he conjured many nights as a teenager, and an image he boxed up and hid away to forget about; because it could never be a reality.

Only it _is_ a reality, and Loki rubs his cheek along his newly opened jeans, and against the soft fabric of his boxer briefs. The teasing ends there, both far too impatient. In one swift motion, Loki drags down pants, briefs and all, and Thor’s cock bobs heavy between them.

Loki wraps a hand around the base but doesn’t move. He stays silent, appraising, and licks his lips.

Thor wishes he would do something because the anticipation is killing him.

“Like what you see?” Thor asks, and he hopes Loki doesn’t notice the real insecurity lying beneath it. He’s not as long, but thick— much like the rest of him. He’s never had any complaints, but then again, he’s never had Loki.

Loki gives him a little squeeze, and then traces his tongue from base to tip, planting a sloppy, wet kiss on the already leaking head.

“Oh yes,” he breathes out, hot against him, which has Thor’s hips jerking forward. “Just trying to savor it.”

His actions don’t exactly align with his words, because he swallows Thor down as much as he can, sucking hard and pulling off with a pop. Before Thor can regain his composure, he does it again, this time bringing his fist up to meet his lips.

Loki always liked to perfect everything he did, and it seems sucking cock is no exception. Within minutes he has Thor falling apart, struggling to watch, and struggling to keep from coming right down his throat. His hand has found the dark curls atop Loki’s head, and his messy ponytail is askew from where Thor’s grip pulled strands free.

He doesn’t guide Loki, doesn’t need to, but he lets his arm work with the push and pull of the mouth around him. A much needed leverage for a knee-buckeling event.

And, when he feels himself tensing and edging towards release, he grips Loki’s head tight and hauls him off and up.

His mouth is swollen and wet when Thor dives into to kiss the taste of himself off Loki’s lips. He makes a small noise like he’s going to protest, but it quickly dies when Thor undoes his pants and shoves his hand in. Loki gasps, quiet into his mouth, hands flying up to find purchase on Thor’s broad shoulders.

It’s easy for him to get them both in his hand, he’s already wet from Loki’s mouth, and it helps to guide the way for him to stroke at both of their cocks.

“Shit,” Loki breathes out and looks down between them. “Shit, Thor—”

He sounds wrecked, which is good because Thor is about to lose all control. He’s been toeing that line since Loki first swallowed him down.

“That’s it,” Loki encourages. “Come on.”

He presses his hips closer, tilts up so Thor has a better angle to quicken the pace. He watches, entranced, as they both disappear and reappear in Thor’s relentless fist.

Thor tumbles first, he growls when he comes, pulsing over his hand and down Loki’s cock. It makes the next few tugs easy, and the smooth glide has Loki following with a silent cry.

Loki slumps against him, and Thor reaches behind him to wipe his hand the best he can on the door. As clean as the bathroom is, he doubts it’s the worst thing it's seen. With his clean hand, he reaches up to cradle the back of Loki’s next, who is watching him like a scared animal. Like Thor’s going to get angry and leave him standing there with his cock out.

He brings Loki’s head to his chest and kisses his sweaty forehead.

“How did you not know it was me you were texting?”

Thor hums, he’d almost forgotten how this all started.

“New phone, I didn’t have your number.”

Loki pulls back, scandalized. “You don’t have my number memorized?”

“Why would I? I have a phone!”

Loki stares at him in disbelief, but then his face cracks into a grin. He laughs, and it’s the most beautiful sound Thor has ever heard. He brings Loki's head back to his chest and nuzzles in. It’s easy to imagine they are anywhere but a sleazy bar bathroom.

Home, maybe, in a warm bed.

“Were you disappointed?” Loki asks. He doesn’t look up. “That it was me?”

“No,” Thor answers, quickly. Honest, and truthful. “Not at all.”

 

Val stares at her phone, and when the timer rolls over to twenty minutes with no sign of Thor or Loki, she lets out a triumphant noise.

“No way,” Banner says. “Maybe they slipped out when we weren’t looking.”

“Still in there.”

Banner sighs and takes out his wallet. “I really didn’t think they would last that long.”

“They have a decade of built-up tension. It’s going to be a while. Might as well drink.” Val takes a swig of her bottle, and her hand finds her pocket where she pats at the sharpie hidden within.

She should probably go scribble through Loki’s number on the wall now. But, then again, maybe not. Loki _is_ kind of an ass.

**Author's Note:**

> this is really dumb, i'm sorry. hahaha. but i identify with valkyrie. one weary lesbian sick of their sexual tension. feedback is always appreciated. <3 thanks for reading.


End file.
